


you've got that power over me

by okaystop



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Best Friends, Bisexuality, Figuring Things Out, Friends Giving Friends a Hand, Hand Jobs, I Want You Bro, Kissing, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), M/M, Porn Watching, admitting things, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop
Summary: Behind him, the front door opens, and Jon comes in, panting, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's hotter than I thought out there -"Tommy freezes. He knows Jon has a direct view of his computer screen. He knows what Tommy is watching. He also knows what Tommy's doing ...
Relationships: Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor
Comments: 25
Kudos: 47





	you've got that power over me

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to me! I'm posting this as a birthday gift to myself. 
> 
> This is a chatfic I wrote way back in July of last year in response to an absolutely wonderful game of "Okay, stop" that happened during the live pod in Salt Lake City - THAT I GOT TO WITNESS IN PERSON. (ICYMI: [Answer the question, Tommy!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwxLyghqbuE)) 
> 
> It's been half a year or whatever, but thanks to some beyond excellent beta work by SelfRescuingPrincess, it's finished and it's my birthday and it's here for everyone else to enjoy.
> 
> Title is from "Power Over Me" by Dermot Kennedy.
> 
> \--

Tommy's staying with Jon for a few days, a southern California vacation before he moves himself up to San Francisco for a change of scenery. They're both still tired from years in the White House while at the same time not able to figure out how to let themselves relax. His stress level had gone down significantly since he gave up his top-secret level clearance, but that didn't mean his anxiety decreased. He’s still working on that. He has no meetings, no missed phone calls, no emails to reply to. It's this weird mix of feeling like he's missing out and also relief that he doesn't have to be on call 24/7. This stopover in LA - with the sun, the beach, and, of course, Jon - is helping. 

Jon says he's going to go for an early evening run, but Tommy begs off. He tips his beer bottle at Jon and wishes him well, then pulls his laptop over his thighs.

Jon said he'd be about a half hour, and Tommy thinks that's probably long enough for him to get off. He's feeling loose and good and while he could just stare at Twitter for a while, he needs to pass the time in some other way. Jerking off, he thinks, is a great time-filler, and he could use the orgasm. 

He thinks he should go to the guest room, but his beer is almost gone, Jon's sofa is comfortable, and what the hell. Jon might use running to destress, but Tommy's found that jerking off works even better.

He's already in his sweats, so he won't have to fiddle with zippers or buttons, which makes the idea of not leaving the sofa even more appealing. He has enough time. It won't take him too long. It never does when he finds something to watch on the computer, and he has some favorites that he can bring up quickly.

He pulls up one of his favorite videos, bookmarked since no one but him ever uses this computer. It's short, this guy and girl fucking in the shower, and he hits play, settling in to watch. His fist curls against his thigh tightly, and he takes a deep breath to get started.

But it's not even a minute into the video when Tommy realizes it isn't doing it for him. He growls in frustration and scrolls down to check the recommended videos. Nothing's catching his eye.

He sighs and clicks around in the categories for a while, hesitating, then thinks fuck it and opens up a guy on guy video, one that looks promising. He can't explain it, why sometimes those videos get him off (though he never bookmarks them), not when he's straight; he likes women. So maybe sometimes he also looks at a guy and thinks he's hot, a guy like Jon, even, with his tight t-shirts and long fingers. It doesn't happen all that often and it definitely shouldn't be happening in Jon's house, but there it is. The video's only run for about 15 seconds and he's already getting hard, tenting his sweatpants.

God, Tommy thinks, the one guy has a great chest, well-defined pecs, and his biceps are excellent. The other guy is fine too, but not really Tommy's type (if he, you know, had a type of male body he was attracted to). 

(Which he doesn't.)

He moves the laptop off his knees, onto the sofa beside him. Better angle and access at least. He gets a hand inside his sweatpants but he doesn't want it over too quickly, so he scratches his fingers over his thigh, against the crease of his hip. Everywhere but where he wants it. It's okay, he still has some time, just not as much as he did ten minutes ago.

Tommy moves the laptop, angles it so he can watch easily as he leans his head back and to the side, as he gets his hand around his dick. He moans in relief. The sound isn't turned up, but he doesn't need the sound, the visuals are plenty motivating. 

He palms himself, dry, then pulls his hand out again to spit on it. Lube would be better but he doesn't want to move and he sincerely doubts Jon keeps any in the living room, and even if he did, he’s not going to waste time searching for it. When he gets his hand back on his dick, it feels so good, and he doesn't think he'll last as long as the video.

"Fuck," he gasps out, rubbing the head of his dick between his fingers, adding pre-come to his spit. It feels so damn good. 

Behind him, the front door opens, and Jon comes in, panting, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's hotter than I thought out there -"

Tommy freezes. He knows Jon has a direct view of his computer screen. He knows what Tommy is watching. He also knows what Tommy's doing, with his hand down the front of his pants. 

"Uh, yeah, it -" Tommy has no idea what to say. 

For a moment it looks like Jon's going to just turn around and leave again but instead he stutter steps forward, the door closing behind him. "What are you watching? Anything good?

"Just this, uh, video." A beat. "Yeah it's good."

Jon stops next to the couch, next to Tommy.

Tommy tries not to look at Jon. He tries not to look at the computer either. He doesn't look at his hand. He just sits there and stares straight ahead. The photo on the wall across from the couch is slightly crooked.

He feels Jon move behind him, knee on the couch, his chest crowding in against Tommy's back. "Need a hand there, Tom?" He's talking right into Tommy's ear, breath warm.

Tommy holds his breath. This can't be happening. He fell asleep on the couch. He's dreaming this. He has to be.

"Tommy?" 

Tommy pulls his hand out of his sweats and sets it back on his thigh. He nods, just barely, then tips his head back against Jon's shoulder. 

Jon pushes Tommy's sweats down, letting Tommy's dick pop out. It's barely a second before Jon's hand is wrapping around Tommy, squeezing. Tommy's whole body shudders as Jon starts to move his hand, pumping him slowly but steadily. Jon's other hand curls up over Tommy's shoulder, holding him steady against him as he jerks him off.

Tommy is still frozen, mostly, except for the cant of his hips as he thrusts into Jon's touch. "That's it, Tommy," Jon murmurs. "Fuck, I didn't know - you want this so badly, huh?"

Tommy didn't know either, he thinks with a jolt. He didn't know that staring a little too long at Jon's hands when he talked was just step one and this, those fingers wrapped around his dick, that's step whatever-comes-next, oh God. Tommy whines, from somewhere deep in his throat. He arches his back. When was the last time he felt like this with someone else's hands on him? He can't even remember.

Jon squeezes Tommy's dick then pulls his hand off, and Tommy gasps, shakes his head. "Jon -" and Jon slides his hand up to Tommy's face, brushes his fingers, wet from Tommy's pre-come, over his jaw. He pushes his thumb against Tommy's chin until he opens his mouth then he tucks his fingers, three of them, right inside. "Suck them," Jon orders, and Tommy does it. He can't move his head, can't see Jon's expression, but he can hear him. Panting into his ear, like he likes this too. Like this is what he wants, too.

Tommy hasn't ever sucked on someone's fingers like this, but he finds it easy to, letting his tongue and spit do all the work until Jon's fingers are dripping. Jon swears into his ear and then the hand on his shoulder is gone and Tommy can feel Jon fumbling against his back and he realizes he's putting his hand into his own gym shorts.

Tommy moans around Jon's fingers, leaning back against Jon. "Jon, come on," he tries to say but it doesn't really come out at all, muffled around his fingers. 

But Jon gets the point. He pulls his hands away and pushes Tommy fully back against the couch so he can straddle him, sitting up on his knees over Tommy's lap. Tommy's sweats are around his thighs, and as soon as Jon's accessible, Tommy pushes his gym shorts down. "There it is," Tommy says, red faced and breathing heavily, as he slides his hand over his own dick to pick up his precome then wrap a hand around Jon's dick. He didn't know how much he wanted to get his hands on Jon like this until he could feel him, hot and pulsing, against his palm.

Jon arches back then takes his spit slick hand and gets it back on Tommy.

They jerk each other off, Jon's arm against the couch beside Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy finally reaches up to curl his around the back of Jon's neck. He's focusing on Jon's chest, imagining his shirt off so he isn't looking at an olive green vee neck. He tugs at the neck of his shirt until Jon gets the picture and pulls back. Just enough to get the shirt off, and Tommy groans. He leans his forehead against Jon's collarbone as they jerk each other off, fists moving in an erratic rhythm.

Jon's chest is better than the one in the video, which Tommy barely notices is still playing on the couch beside them. He turns his head so his face is against Jon's chest, feels the thumping of his heartbeat against his temple. 

Jerking Jon off is everything. Having Jon’s dick in his hand, feeling it hot and heavy and leaking at the same time Jon's working him over. Tommy doesn't think he's going to last much longer. He grips Jon's hip tightly and turns, nosing and opening his mouth against his arm , flicking his tongue across his nipple.

Jon comes first, with a gasp and jerk of his hips, come spurting over Tommy's hand and t-shirt against his stomach.

"Oh shit," Jon's saying, a litany of other words and groans as Tommy helps him ride it out. When Jon says Tommy's name, he's coming too, hips arching up off the couch, pushing up into Jon’s fist, crying out.

A minute passes, maybe two, and all Tommy can hear his own breathing and Jon's, everything else white noise around them. He doesn't want to move, even though he needs to get this sticky shirt off and maybe kiss Jon. Definitely kiss Jon. He can't do that - give Jon a hand job, get one from him - and not know what it's like to have his mouth against his.

He lifts his head and refocuses up at Jon. Jon's flushed, his lips parted. He looks down at Tommy with dark eyes and a wet mouth. Tommy's breath catches somewhere between his chest and the back of his throat, and he looks up at the ceiling. Jon looks too good with a post-orgasm flush for him to look directly at. It's like staring at the sun for too long.

Then Jon slides off his lap, clearing his throat and getting his gym shorts back up in place.

Tommy stares up at him. "Jon -"

Jon rubs his mouth, scratches the back of his neck, then slowly turns back to look at Tommy. Tommy knows what he must look like, wrecked and red and come-covered, boneless on the couch. "Come on," Jon says. "Let's get in the shower."

Tommy stands up and takes a deep breath, watches Jon's back as he walks up the stairs. Tommy follows him because why the hell wouldn't he. They're both sticky and gross and they already did - _this_ \- so why not shower together. 

He takes his shirt off before he gets to the stairs, tossing it behind him, over his shoulder.

Jon's already in the bathroom with the shower running when Tommy appears in the doorway.

Jon sticks his hand under the water then turns and flashes an easy smile at Tommy. "How hot do you like it?" 

Tommy rubs the side of his neck. "Whatever's comfortable." He hesitates for a moment then pushes down his sweats and steps out of them. He watches Jon do the same with his gym shorts. He stares too long even though he already saw everything before. When his hand was on Jon's dick. He wants to do that again. The thought hits him like a jolt. It's one thing to occasionally watch two dudes fuck on a computer screen and another altogether to do it in reality. And then something else entirely to do it and want to _keep_ doing it. But he really, really does.

Jon's head is tipped to the side, as he watches Tommy watch him. "Join me?" He steps into the shower, leaving the curtain open a little, an invitation for Tommy.

Tommy doesn't want to hesitate but he does. He's wondering what this is. What this might be. Jon has never shown any interest in him like this before, or in ... any other guys. Tommy doesn't think, and he's known Jon for years. But it isn't like Tommy's shown outward interest either. He shouldn't judge Jon for something he isn't willing to admit to himself.

He pushes at the curtain and steps in, steps right up in front of Jon, his hand hitting Jon's hip, Jon nudging their shoulders together. Tommy meets his eyes. He's a little taller than Jon, something he doesn't usually think about, but it's noticeable here, now.

Jon smiles at Tommy, slightly sheepish but fond all the same, and then reaches past him for the bar of soap. He slathers his hands up and washes himself. Tommy's having trouble breathing. He watches Jon's hands move over his stomach, wiping away Tommy's come, and he can't help but groan, just a bit.

He reaches for the soap when Jon's done but Jon doesn't give it to him, just lathers his hands up again and then puts his soapy hands on Tommy. Tommy lets Jon, but only for a moment. Because he can't just continue to stand there and let Jon's hands slide all over him, not when it's the best thing he's felt in ages. Not when he hasn't even kissed Jon yet. 

He steps closer to Jon, nudges him sideways, until Jon’s back hits the tile. Jon looks at Tommy, surprised. Tommy sees Jon's gaze drop down to Tommy's mouth, and he knows what's coming next. Tommy puts his hand on Jon's shoulder, fingers against the side of his neck. He looks at Jon's mouth too, how close they are, how little effort it'll take to press his mouth to Jon's.

So he does it.

Jon's mouth is wet and warm, and Tommy presses his mouth harder against Jon's. He opens his mouth, slides his tongue in, finds that Jon is ready and open for the same. He kisses Tommy right back, matches him stroke for stroke, and Tommy pushes Jon back, presses a thigh in between Jon's. He knows how to do this. He lifts his hands to Jon's cheeks, deepens the kiss.

Tommy tilts Jon's head back so the angle is better, and it’s perfect. The hot water cascades down Tommy's back, but Jon shivers. Tommy can't tell if it's from the combination of the hot water and cold tile or from their kiss. He slides his tongue against Jon's, sucks on it lightly. He pushes his thumb against the side of Jon's neck, down his collarbone, near his throat.

Jon's hands push in against Tommy's hips, digs his fingers in, the pads of his fingers bound to leave marks. He pulls Tommy's hips against his, rocks their hips together. Tommy doesn't think he can get hard again too quickly but he doesn't care. Even a little sensitive it feels so good to rock against Jon.

Jon's gasping against Tommy's mouth, and he's getting hard again. Tommy pulls back, curling his fingers at Jon's neck. "Jon," he says. The shower is hot and steamy but that's nothing close to what it feels like to have Jon growing hard again against his thigh. 

Jon's fingers tighten against Tommy's hips. "Hey, do you - can we -?"

Tommy pants a little. "What?" he asks. He's moving his thigh against Jon's dick, likes the way it feels hot and heavy against him. 

"Tom," Jon says. "Hold on. Stop, wait, let's - wait."

Tommy moves his hands to the tile on either side of Jon's head. "What is it?" He's looking at Jon's mouth then up at his eyes. He heaves a breath. He’s still pressed against Jon, but he stops moving his thigh.

"I want to talk about this."

Tommy shakes his head a little. "I don't." Maybe he should, but he's scared about what he'll hear, what Jon wants to say. What if he doesn't want to keep going? _What if he does?_ What does either of those options mean for Tommy tomorrow, next week, next year. He tries to shut out all these thoughts, but he's never been very good at that. He closes his eyes for a moment to breathe normally.

"Tommy." Jon's hands move up and down Tommy's sides, gently. "This can't just be something we don't talk about."

Tommy blinks at Jon and then steps back. He turns off the water, lets it drip down his back, down his legs. The same water drips down Jon's chest. "Okay, so - what is this? You saw me watching porn and decided to - give me a hand. Give me - what? Did you think that it's what I wanted, like I've been sitting around thinking about you?" It's hard to keep a defensive edge from his tone. He wishes he could take back the words, smooth them out, try again. Tommy swallows.

Jon stares at him. "Have you?" His eyes widen. "Been thinking about me? Because I've been thinking about you. About this. Us."

Tommy almost falls backwards out of the shower, and he has to grab at the side of the wall to steady himself. "What? Jon, you -"

Jon pushes past him and reaches for a towel. He rubs his face and over his chest. He wraps it around his waist, the front tented. He holds a towel out for Tommy.

"Jon?"

Jon leans back against the sink counter. He wraps his arm over his stomach. "Tommy, I - look if you're not interested, if this was just some one time thing, you have to tell me."

This isn't anything that Tommy expected. (Nothing that happened this afternoon was expected.) He expected the opposite. He thought this was all just - he didn't know what this was. He still doesn't. He doesn't know what Jon is saying.

"You want - what?"

Jon looks at him. "You," he says. "I want you."

Tommy backs up against the wall, looking at Jon. He's wet and flushed, wearing only a towel, and he just said that he wants Tommy. Tommy doesn't know what to do.

"Jon, you aren't - I'm not -" The words aren't there and they both know it.

Jon steps up into his space and gets a hand on Tommy's jaw. "Hey, hey, Tom it's fine. Look. If you don't feel the same way, that's fine. I'm just - I needed to get it out there before we do anything else. Because, fuck, I want to do everything else. With you. Please. Talk to me."

"Sexually, you mean. Not like - not like - I mean everything is-"

Jon shakes his head, leans down and brushes his mouth against Tommy's cheek, along his jaw. "Yes. Everything," he says. "Take you out to dinner, hold your hand when we walk down the street, kiss you when we're out with friends, take you to bed every night."

"Holy shit." Tommys eyes are wide and he freezes. "I don't - I can't -" There they are again, all those thoughts flooding into his mind. He thought he knew who he was, but Jon's making him question everything. 

"Yes you can, Tommy. Do this with me. Give me a chance."

Why shouldn't he do this? Besides the best friendship he's ever had, he has nothing to lose. It's Jon. He _loves_ Jon and here's Jon, standing in front of him, confessing the same. It's always been there, his love for Jon, but without definition. Tommy assumed it was the kind of love he had for a friend, but he wonders if, maybe, this might be - that he might be _in love_ with Jon.

"You want to date me," Tommy says.

Jon nods. He touches his fingertips along the shell of Tommy's ear. "Be my boyfriend. My partner. We're already in this together. Just - let's take that next step. It felt good. Didn't it? I mean, doesn’t it? Us, together." When Tommy doesn't respond right away, Jon's hopeful smile falters. "I know it's - I know we haven't even talked about this, that it's coming out of nowhere, that it seems like it is." He lowers his voice." "But I've - this isn't a new feeling for me, Tom."

The thing is, Tommy sees what Jon means. He can suddenly see this, laid out before them. They already are partners, but just without the sex. Now that sex has entered in, it's good. It can be better. It can be more. It can be like they already are, just with orgasms. What's wrong with that, really?

"Tommy?" Jon presses his hand against the back of Tommy's neck. “What do you say?”

Tommy looks at him, looks at Jon, really looks at him. He realizes that Jon might never have said anything, if not for Tommy watching gay porn at his house, catching him doing it. Tommy didn't think he was - didn't think Jon was -

"I don't want to lose you," he finds himself saying. "You're my best friend. What if this goes south? What if we can't do this? What if this blows up in our faces?"

Jon's quiet when he speaks again. "What if it doesn't?"

Tommy doesn't have an answer to that. He clutches Jon's bicep, fingers curled. "Yeah," he says, and he doesn't think about all the complications, doesn't let all those thoughts invade his mind again. Thoughts about coming out, about telling his mom, about telling Lovett, about what else it all means. He knows he'll do that later. Right now, he needs to be in the moment for Jon. "Yeah, okay, I -" He nods. "Jon, yes, I want to do this too." The words flow off his tongue so easily, and his shoulders feel lighter, his body relaxing. It feels _right_.

The smile on Jon's face is more than he can handle, full-faced and bright. He kisses Tommy, open mouthed and hot, knocking him back against the wall. Tommy's towel starts to slip but he ignores it, looping his arms around Jon's neck.

Jon pulls back, his forehead pressed to Tommy's cheek. "Come to bed with me, Tom," he says, swallowing, quiet. Like he shouldn't be asking it but he does anyway.

Tommy squeezes his arm and nods. "Good idea," he says.

Jon slides his hand down and takes Tommy's, lacing their fingers together. With his other hand, he loosens the knot on Tommy's towel, pushes it down. "We can leave these here," he says.

Tommy chews on the inside of his cheek and drops his hand down to push off Jon's towel too. "Right," he says, and he feels like this is the moment, this is it, where they take that next step and then there's no going back.

Before, on the couch downstairs, it was something else entirely, an exploration, an impulse, a maybe. Now, Jon has asked and Tommy's answered, and they're going to bed together. He's done this before, gone to bed with someone. Been naked with someone. Had sex. In relationships, as hook ups. But he hasn't done those things with Jon. He's going to. Now, tonight.

Jon squeezes his hand and tugs him into his bedroom. He sits on the end of the bed and brings Tommy up to stand in front of him. "What do you want?" he asks. "What are you comfortable with?"

Tommy shakes his head. "I don't know. What - Jon, have you done this before?"

He shrugs, blushing.

Tommy sets a hand on Jon's shoulder. His dick twitches. "You have," he says, trying not to sound as surprised as he feels. He realizes now that he had always been looking at Jon without really seeing him. That's not going to happen anymore. "I haven't."

Jon nods. When he swallows and his Adam's apple bobs, Tommy wants to close his mouth over it. He drags his fingers along the inside of Jon's thigh. "I honestly don't know what I'm comfortable with. Do you - you want me to blow you?" 

Jon's lips are parted and he nods. "I - yes of course I do but if you're not - I can blow you instead." 

Tommy doesn't answer, just drops to his knees, determined.

Jon gives a gasp and clenches his fist against the edge of the bed. "Tommy, are you sure? You don't have to."

Tommy shifts forward on his knees and squeezes Jon's thigh. "I want to," he says. Because he does. Look, he's never given a blow job before but he's received a lot of them. He can be good at this. He can make it good for Jon.

"Okay," Jon says, hoarsely. He reaches out and rubs his fingers through Tommy's hair, pushes him down just a little, encouraging him.

Tommy licks his lips.

Jon is looking at him with so much love - Tommy sees it now for what it is. He sees the love there and it fills his chest and his head. Before he can think too hard about it, he bends in and sucks Jon's dick into his mouth. It feels hot and heavy, tastes heady, salty, but not bad. Jon's reaction, a low groan and the tightening of his fingers in Tommy's hair, urges him along. He hollows his cheeks and sucks Jon down.

"Shit, Tommy, fuck, dude -" Jon's hips come up off the bed, and Tommy slides an arm over his thigh to keep him down. He pulls back and coughs a bit, gagging when Jon's dick hits the back of his throat. He sits back on his heels, puts his hand around Jon. 

"Sorry," he says.

Jon shakes his head. "No it's fine. I shouldn't - I'll try not to do that again. Just -"

"Yeah," Tommy says. He ducks down again and mouths at the head, pulls back with a pop. Then he tries again, determined to make it good for Jon. He always wants to make it good for Jon. He always has.

And now he wants to spend the rest of his life making this - everything - good for Jon.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment telling me what you liked. Or just wish me a happy birthday. That's cool, too.


End file.
